All About Soul
by Annie Wright
Summary: post-ep for 'The Truth'-what John and Monica are up to while Mulder and Scully are driving to Roswell (Companion piece to 'Ultreya', MSR)


Title: All About Soul  
Category: DRR, post-ep, companion piece to 'Ultreya'  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: 'The Truth'  
Disclaimer: No profit is made here;  
This fanfic is written for fun.  
Lawsuits are not very nice.  
  
Authors notes at the end.  
  
  
  
  
She waits for me at night, she waits for me in silence   
She gives me all her tenderness and takes away my pain   
And so far she hasn't run, though I swear she's had her moments  
She still believes in miracles while others cry in vain.   
-Billy Joel  
  
  
  
  
Falls Church, VA  
3:45 am  
  
  
Monica shivered slightly in the early May air, wishing she had brought her coat out with her. Instead, she sat on John Doggett's back porch and lit her first cigarette in almost a year as she stared up at the inky sky and connected the dots of stars to form the constellations she had learned long ago.  
"Those things'll kill ya." John sat down next to her, kicking her lightly with his bare foot. "And I thought you quit." The humor in his eyes belied the seriousness of his voice.   
She looked over at him, her smile both shy and embarrassed. "Yeah, I did." She took in his jeans and rumpled tee shirt, his bad case of bedhead. "Why are you up?"  
"Same reason you are." He sighed. "Think they're okay?"  
Monica nodded as she inhaled deeply. "Yeah, I do. How's Gibson?"  
"Asleep. Poor kid, he's been through the ringer. He's gonna sleep for days."  
"Wish I could." Monica flicked her ash into an empty Miller Lite can. She'd had only one, hoping it would help her sleep, but instead she'd lain awake, tossing and turning and praying for a sleep that wouldn't come. So she'd gotten up, put her jeans back on, and come outside to indulge in her favorite vice. She'd bought the cigarettes two days earlier-just in case, she'd told herself.   
Beside her, John sighed and leaned back on his arms. "Gonna be daybreak soon. We should try and get some rest."  
"Yeah." She took another long drag of her cigarette but didn't make a move to get up. "But I can't sleep. There's too much going on."  
John moved his leg slightly, rubbing Monica's bare foot with his own. "I know. But we should try."  
She nodded. After a moment, she said, "John?"  
"Yeah?"  
"What do you think's gonna happen?"  
At this he turned to her, his icy blue eyes gazing into her own. "To them?"  
She nudged his foot and looked away, suddenly shy. "To us."  
He reached out and tucked a strand of her soft chestnut hair behind her ear. "I dunno, Mon. Reassignment, probably, if they don't fire us first." He sighed and sat up. "Are you worried?"  
"No…yes." She laughed. "I just…I don't want to lose you." She was looking up at the sky again, forming constellations to prevent herself from crying.   
John gently turned her face to his, forcing her to look him in the eye. "You won't." She smiled, and he kissed her forehead gently. "You don't worry about a thing-that's my job, okay?"  
She nodded.  
He stood then, his knees cracking as he did so, and held out a hand to her. She dropped her cigarette butt into the empty can and took his hand, and as she stood he pulled her into a hug. "We're gonna be fine, Mon. I promise."  
And she knew he meant it.  
  
7:07 am  
  
  
The sunlight streaming in through the venetian blinds woke Monica gently the next morning, and instead of rising she lay in bed and watched John sleep. He had lent her an old NYPD shirt to sleep in and she loved the way it smelled-like Tide detergent and Ivory soap, like him. She watched as the sunlight streamed off his bare torso and turned his already light hair blond, and she smiled to herself.  
His eyes opened. "What's that for?"  
"What's what for?"  
"That Cheshire cat grin?"  
She shrugged. "No reason."  
He reached out and ran a lock of her hair through his fingers. "We should get up, I'm sure we're gonna get a call from Skinner soon."  
She nodded, but instead of getting up she took his hand in hers and held it to her face. "Do I scare you?" she asked softly.  
John ran his thumb across her lips once, twice, before he spoke. "Yeah."   
She kissed his thumb and made a move to get up, but he stopped her, his hand on her arm.   
"It's not you that scares me, Mon. It's…the situation." He ran his hand down her arm and linked his fingers with hers. "I don't know if I'm ready."  
She nodded. "I know. And its okay, John." This time she did sit up, stretching as she did so. "What's for breakfast?"  
"I got bagels downstairs." John threw the covers off and stood up, straightening his blue pajama bottoms. "I don't know if I have coffee, though."  
"Someone will be making a Starbucks run if you don't," she replied, standing. "Come on, we'd better get a move-on."  
They walked down to the kitchen in silence. John turned the television to CNN, setting the volume to low.   
"Found the coffee," Monica said, setting a can down on the kitchen counter and spooning grinds into the filter. "Should we call Skinner?"  
John turned from the TV. "No need to go looking for problems, Mon, I'm sure they'll find us soon enough."  
The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the house, and Gibson appeared in the living room, rubbing his eyes.  
"Hey sport," John said. "You hungry?"  
Yawning, Gibson nodded and made his way to the kitchen table.   
"You like bagels?"  
"Yeah."  
Monica set down a stack of plates and utensils, and sat next to Gibson. A moment later John appeared with bagels and cream cheese, and sat across from Monica. They ate in silence for a long time, when finally John spoke.  
"Gibson, would you like to live here?"  
"With you two?"  
Monica and John exchanged a glance, Monica chuckling. "No, just me," John replied. "We can take you back to wherever you were, if that's what you want."  
Gibson looked thoughtful. "No, I'd like to stay here."  
Before anyone could speak, the phone rang. "That'll be the angry mob," John said as he rose to answer it.   
Monica watched him intently, hearing only his end of the conversation. "Ten am, yeah that's fine, we'll be there." He hung up. "Kersh wants to see us at ten."  
A strange beeping interrupted them. "What the hell is that?"  
Monica walked to the living room and fished around in her coat pocket, extracting a small cell phone. "The Batphone."  
"The what?"  
Monica shushed him. "Reyes….Where are you?"  
John shot her a quizzical look, and she grabbed a piece of paper from the coffee table and scribbled something on it.   
'Dana'.  
"He's fine…we're at John's…Anything…Okay...You want us to fake your deaths?… Gotcha…. Does Skinner know any of this?… Okay, get the money and the papers. Then what?… I'll see about a flight out tonight if I can…..What about Gibson?… Okay. Call me back in a few hours and I'll tell you what's going on."  
"What was that about?" he asked after she had hung up.  
Monica grinned. "Dana bought a pre-paid cell phone with a fake name and gave it to me…the Batphone. It's untraceable, nobody but Dana has the number."  
"Are they okay?"  
"They're fine, but we have to get to New Mexico by tonight." She tucked the phone back in her pocket. "I'm going to go home and change, I'll see you at the office."  
  
  
  
  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
9:57 am  
  
John found Monica already waiting for him in Kersh's office, sitting on the couch in his anteroom and fidgeting with one of her big silver rings. "Where's Gibson?"  
"Skinner's got him." He sat down next to her and slipped the heavy silver band off her finger. She gave him a look, and he smiled. "I hate fidgeting."  
At that, she laughed softly. "It's the Marine in you."  
"No, it's the anal-retentive in me."  
The door to Kersh's office swung open, and he regarded them with apprehension. "Agents."  
They followed him into his office and sat down. He sat behind his desk and folded his hands on it.  
"I've got good news and bad news, Agents. Which first?"  
"Surprise us." John's face was like stone.  
"You've both been assigned to domestic terrorism."  
John laughed at this. "Figures. And the good news?"  
"You're not being separated, and you'll be working out of these offices."  
"What about the X-Files?" Monica asked.   
"Closed…indefinitely, probably permanently." Kersh sighed and removed his glasses. "I won't lie to you…they want Skinner gone. They're forcing his resignation. They know he was involved, he won't give them answers. I tried to convince them he knew nothing, but they weren't buying." He leaned back. "I've been instructed to tell you that you are both on administrative leave until Monday. I suggest, agents, that you use that time well." At this, he gave them a pointed look. "Finish up whatever business is left on the X-Files. Do I make myself clear?"  
John and Monica exchanged a glance. "Crystal."  
They stood, and Kersh extended his hand to John. Puzzled, he took it-and Kersh slipped him a piece of paper. John put it in his pocket and followed Monica out of the room.  
Once in the elevator, John opened the piece of paper.  
"What's it say?"  
"It's a number of a guy who'll fly us anywhere, no questions asked if we pay cash." John looked at her. "I'd say he's a pretty handy guy to have around."  
"I'll say. Anything else?"  
"That's all he wrote."   
The elevator doors slid open, and they walked down to Skinner's office. They found him cleaning out his desk. Gibson sat on a couch, immersed in the Style section of the Post. He didn't look up as they entered.  
"Sit." They sat. "I suppose Kersh told you about my 'resignation'," he asked. They nodded, and he continued. "Effective immediately. I'll be out of here by noon."  
"Good."   
He looked at Monica like she'd grown a second head. "What?"  
She smiled. "We have some business to finish up, and we're gonna need all the help we can get."  
"What do you mean?"  
Monica grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil from Skinner's desk. She scribbled hastily on it, then held it up.  
'Dana called. We have to go to New Mexico. Today.'  
"Are they okay?"  
"Yes, but there's some things they need from us. The sooner, the better. She's calling back soon." Again, she scribbled on the paper and held it up.  
'Meet us at Dana's ASAP. Be prepared to travel.'  
Skinner nodded.   
  
  
  
  
Scully's Apartment  
11:45 am  
  
"You sure it's here, Mon?" John asked from under the kitchen sink.   
"Yes, she said it was under the kitchen sink." She crouched down next to him. "Ever think of using a flashlight, copper?" she asked, mini-MagLite in hand.   
He poked his head out from under the sink and snatched the flashlight from her. "Nobody likes a smartass, Agent Reyes."  
"Better a smartass then a dumb one," she shot back, and he laughed.   
A moment later he slid out from under the sink, a small key in hand. "This it?"  
"Let's find out."  
The small safe had been in the back of William's closet, just as Scully said it would be. Monica opened it up and grinned. "Jackpot."  
"What're we takin'?"  
"Everything." She began to gather up papers. "There should be fake passports, birth certificates, the works. And cash."  
John held up a thick envelope. "Think they're headed to Vegas?"  
Monica rolled her eyes. "Okay, I think that's everything."  
"You missed something." He held up a small velvet bag. "Wanna take this, or you gonna go for what's behind door number two?"  
Smiling, she snatched it from his hand and opened it. Two simple platinum bands fell into her hand.  
"Now I know they're headin' to Vegas."  
There was a knock at the door, and she stood, sticking the rings in her pocket. "Bet that's Skinner."  
Sure enough, Skinner stood there in jeans and a tee shirt, suitcase in hand.   
Once he was in, Monica tossed the Batphone to John. "Call that number, see what you can do about getting us to New Mexico tonight." She turned to Skinner. "Can you take Gibson out, get him some clothes?"   
"Sure."  
Gibson, who had been watching TV, looked up. "I'm okay."  
She rumpled his hair affectionately. "You've been wearing the same clothes for two days, kiddo. No dice."   
Skinner left with Gibson, and Monica went into Dana's bedroom. She quickly packed a bag and set it on the floor next to the front door.  
"We can leave at 5 but he can only take us as far as Lubbock." John looked at the bag. "What's that for?"  
"I doubt they have many clothes with them."  
The phone in John's hand rang, and he handed it to Monica.  
"Hi….Got it. John, Skinner, Gibson and I have a 7pm flight to Lubbock, Texas. We probably won't get to Roswell until midnight or so… They won't let me come with Gibson alone."  
"Damn right I won't let you go with Gibson alone."  
Monica shushed him. There was a pause, and finally she spoke again. "Monica, Mulder….You don't have a choice. I know you're worried about us, but you don't have to. We'll be fine. You have to let us help you, Mulder. We want to help." She sighed. "Yes. AD Kersh knows. Mulder…" she paused, taking a deep breath, "they took your files. Everything is gone." Again there was a pause. "We've been reassigned…domestic terrorism. Skinner's resigned….okay, got it. We'll see you soon."  
"What was that all about?" John asked as she hung up.  
"Mulder doesn't want you or Skinner there. Says it's endangering you."  
"And letting you go alone isn't endangering you?"   
Monica shrugged. "You know Mulder." She stuck the phone in her pocket. "I'm going to go home and pack. Pick me up at 3."  
She turned to go, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.  
"Why you doin' this, Mon? Risking your life, your job?"  
"I could ask you the same thing." She smiled at him. "Deep down, John, you and I are the same. We do what we can for those we care about. And sometimes, we do more than we should, or that we think we can, because they need us." She squeezed his hand. "I think that we both forget that it's okay for us to need people, too."  
"Why does that sound familiar?"  
"It's from 'Funny Girl'. We should rent it sometime."   
At that he laughed, and she reached up to touch his smile. "I wish I could bottle your smile, keep it for a rainy day. I don't see it often enough." And with that, she turned and left.  
  
  
  
Clovis, Texas  
8:22 CST  
  
  
They'd stopped at a Texaco, needing to stretch their legs and gas up the Explorer. While John filled up the car, Skinner took Gibson inside to get sodas and chips, and Monica strolled away from the gas pumps. When he saw her light up, he laughed.   
"Tryin' to kill us all?" he asked. "Gas is flammable, Mon."  
She smiled sheepishly. "Why do you think I'm over here?"  
He watched her as she smoked and paced, taking in her now wrinkled khakis and rumpled windbreaker. She had braided her hair so that it fell into two thick, dark plaits over her shoulders and John smiled. He could imagine her as a young girl with braids, playing stickball with the boys during the day and stealing innocent kisses from them behind the house at night. He was alternately sad and happy that he hadn't known her as a teenager, because he had no doubt that had they met earlier, her big chocolate colored eyes would have broken his heart a million times over.  
She stubbed her cigarette out and walked over to him. "What?"  
"What what?"  
"I saw you staring at me. Is something wrong?" Her brow furrowed in concern.  
"Just thinkin' how much I like your hair like that."  
Monica blushed, and he was pleased. "Thanks."  
"Welcome."  
The pump shut off, and John distracted himself with putting the cap back on the gas tank. Just as he did so, Skinner and Gibson reappeared with provisions.  
Skinner handed Monica her Coke. "How far do we have left to go?"  
"I'd say another couple of hours at least. I'm figuring we'll be there by midnight."  
He turned to John. "You want me to drive?"  
John threw the keys to him and climbed in the backseat. Monica climbed in the other side, letting Gibson sit in front.   
Twenty minutes later Monica was asleep across the backseat, her head resting on John's chest. He stared down at her face, peaceful in repose and longed to touch her ears, her eyelids, the gentle curve of her neck. Instead, he put an arm around her waist and looked out the window, hoping to find an answer in the vast Texas wilderness.  
  
  
  
Roswell, NM  
1:45 am  
  
  
Monica shut her motel room door quietly behind her, looking around to make sure nobody was around. Stealthily she moved through the darkness into the parking lot, where she sat herself down on the hood of a Chevy Celebrity and lit a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, she leaned back and looked up at the sky.   
"What're you doin' up?"   
Startled, she looked over and found John standing there, an unsure look on his face.  
"Room for two?"  
She scooted over and felt the car dip as he sat down next to her. They sat in silence for awhile. "What're you lookin' for? UFO's?"  
"That's the North Star," she said, pointing up. "And those three stars there? That's Orion."  
"Thought you were into astrology, not astronomy."  
She laughed. "When I was a kid, we'd sit on the verandah and my dad would point out the constellations to us, telling us the legends." She took a drag off her cigarette. "And then afterwards, he'd tell us to pick a star and make a wish. They never came true, of course, but it was fun all the same."  
"So no wishes tonight?"  
"No, I still wish on stars." She turned to him with a smile. "Old habits die hard, I guess."  
"Apparently." He glanced at her cigarette. "What did you wish for tonight?"  
At that she looked away. "Lots of things."  
"Like what?"  
"John, I can't tell you…if I do, they won't come true."  
"Now that's a load of bullshit. Maybe you're supposed to tell people so that they can help make them happen."  
"I wished that Mulder and Dana would be safe."  
"We seem to have that one under control. And?"  
"I wished that Gibson could be a normal kid."  
"We're workin' on that. Anything else."  
At that, she fell silent.  
"What, Mon?"   
She flicked her cigarette butt across the parking lot and stood up. John grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, placing her between his knees. They stood there in the darkness, hands entwined.  
"What is it?"  
She avoided his eyes for a moment, and when she finally looked him in the eye he was surprised to see how much emotion was in her gaze. "I wished…that you'd kiss me, because it's been so long since you did that I've forgotten what it's like."  
Instinctively, his hands went to her face, gently tracing the lines and curves of her cheeks, around to her ears, and then finally to her mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. Gently, he brought his face to hers and softly brushed his lips against hers.  
A shaft of light fell across them and Monica jumped back, surprised. She looked over to see Mulder standing in the room of his room, ice bucket in hand and a sheepish grin on his face.   
"Anyone ever tell you two to get a room?" he quipped. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just…you know, we don't really need ice or soda."  
Monica laughed. "Mulder, it's okay."  
"Must be something in the FBI water." He chuckled at his own lame joke. "Okay kids well…don't do anything Scully or I wouldn't do." He turned back around and shut the door.  
Monica turned back to John with a sad smile on her face. "Guess I'm gonna have to wait a little bit longer." She leaned forward and kissed the bridge of his nose. "Good night."  
He caught her hand before she walked away. "Mon?"  
"Yes?"  
"I….I just….I mean…." He couldn't get the words out.  
She squeezed his hand. "I know."  
  
  
  
8:05 am  
  
Monica knocked on the door to Mulder and Scully's room, a garment bag in hand. Mulder opened the door, and Monica gave him a mock stern look.  
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?"  
Mulder laughed. "You kicking me out?"  
"You're damn right." Monica walked past him into the room and slung the garment bag over a chair. The door to the bathroom opened and Scully emerged, her hair still damp.  
"What's going on?"  
Mulder laughed. "Monica's kicking me out. The whole 'bad luck' thing."  
Scully nodded. "Better listen to the woman, Mulder."  
He dropped a kiss on Scully's cheek before heading out.  
Scully looked at the garment bag. "What's this?"  
Grinning, Monica handed the bag to her. Laying it on the bed, Scully unzipped it to find a long white linen skirt and a light green blouse.   
"It's the best I could do on short notice," Monica explained. "I hope it's okay."  
"It's lovely. Really." Scully smiled. "Thank you."  
"Oh, wait." Monica opened the door and stepped outside briefly. When she returned, she was carrying an ice bucket filled with pink and white tulips. "Here. I wasn't sure what flowers you liked, so I guessed."  
At this, Scully's eyes got watery. "Oh, Monica, no….you've already done too much."  
"Dana, it's your wedding day." She handed the flowers to Scully. "Just because it's a quickie courthouse wedding doesn't mean you can't have flowers."  
Scully smiled. "I just…wow."  
"There's more," Monica said again, digging around in the pockets of her khakis until she found what she was looking for. She held her hand out to Scully. "Here. Old, borrowed, and blue. I think that about covers it."  
Scully looked at the small cobalt blue earrings in her hand, and once again felt a wave of gratitude flood her. "You've already done so much for me, Monica…I don't know how to repay you."  
"You don't have to. This is what friends do."  
The tears finally fell from Scully's eyes, and Monica pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, Monica."  
Monica grinned. "Now, let's get you dressed and ready." She handed Scully the garment bag. "Go on."  
Scully disappeared into the bathroom, and a moment later emerged with the skirt and blouse on. Monica smiled. "Dana, you look beautiful."  
"This is your doing," she replied. "If not for you, I'd be getting married in jeans and a tee-shirt."  
"I couldn't let that happen."  
Scully sat down on the bed next to Monica. "I, uh…I really don't know what to say."  
"Then don't say anything." Monica gave her a serious look. "Dana, I do this because I care, because you have been through hell and back and you deserve something good. You and Mulder…you and he deserve the best. I want to help."  
"You remind me of my sister," Scully said, laughing through her tears. "Melissa would have said the same thing. God, I miss her."  
"What would you do if she were here?" Monica asked.  
"I don't know…she'd probably tell me how Mom would kill me for having a shotgun wedding-and a civil one no less, we'd sit and talk and….I dunno, I'd probably play with her hair…I loved playing with her hair."  
Monica stood up and walked over to the bedside table where Scully had put her brush. "So, you gonna braid my hair or what?" she asked, holding the brush out to her.  
Monica sat on the floor while Scully's deft hands made two French braids in Monica's dark hair.   
"So, what's this Mulder tells me he caught you and Doggett last night?" Scully asked, suppressing a grin.  
Monica blushed so deeply her scalp turned pink. "No, we weren't doing anything."  
"Right." They fell silent, and Scully asked, "Can I ask a personal question?"  
"Sure."  
"He mentioned that you knew him before…were you two involved before?"  
Monica sighed. "After we found Luke…he was shattered. I had worked in the New York field office for a few years, occasionally the NYPD would call me up asking me if this killing or that killing had ritualistic overtones…John and I had gotten to be acquaintances. Then Luke was taken…I found his body. I felt so awful, so guilty, like I could have saved Luke if I'd just worked a little harder, or a little faster. John felt the same way. He and his wife separated, occasionally we'd meet up for drinks. And one night he came over, he was just overwrought…and we slept together. Neither of us meant for it to happen." She paused. "Then I was transferred to New Orleans. We kept in touch-mostly me, but he'd call every once and awhile, when it got to be too hard. He came to visit once…"  
"Do you love him?"  
"Yes." Monica didn't hesitate. "Yes, I do."  
Scully got off the bed and walked over to the table, setting the brush down. Then she turned to Monica, her face serious. "Don't waste time, Monica. Don't do what I did-don't worry about what anyone says or thinks or what may happen to you or your job. If you love him, tell him."  
Monica laughed sadly. "He knows. But I can't compete with ghosts."  
"That doesn't sound like you, this defeatist attitude."  
"I know."  
Scully smiled. "He loves you, Monica. And I think you know it. You're not competing with ghosts, you aren't competing with anyone. You've won, Monica. He's afraid…but John Doggett isn't someone who lets fear stand in his way. Just love him as best you can…he'll come around."  
The motel room door opened and Mulder stuck his head in. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything but uh, we should get going soon."  
Monica stood up. "Okay, let me get my stuff." She smiled at Dana. "Thank you."  
"That's what friends do, Monica."  
  
  
  
8:45 pm  
  
Monica sat propped up on her bed reading, the TV tuned to AMC with its volume on low. She was reveling in this quiet time she had to herself: Skinner and Gibson had driven to the Hosteen farm to get Gibson's belongings and would be there overnight, and John had said he was going to go to bed early. Mulder and Scully were long gone to wherever they were going, with a promise to call when they arrived safely.   
Monica was surprised to hear a light knocking on her door, but even more surprised to see John standing there in jeans and a tee shirt, his feet bare.   
"Am I interrupting something?" He looked unsure, almost frightened.  
"No…come in."  
Monica sat back down on the bed and picked up her book. When John looked hesitant, she laughed. "John, come sit."  
He lay down on the bed, arranging the pillows so that he could see the television. They sat in silence for a moment, before Monica finally said, "Thought you were going to try to sleep."  
"Couldn't."  
She nodded. "I think I have some Tylenol PM if you want it."  
"Nah."  
After several more minutes of silence, John reached over and took the book out of Monica's hands. He dog-eared the page and set it on the bedside table before reaching back over to her and taking her hand.  
Monica lay down as well, so that they were facing each other. "What?" she asked. "I know you want to talk, so spill it."  
"It's about what you said, last night…" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  
"What about it?"  
"Do you…think about that…often?"   
Despite herself, Monica smiled. "Sometimes, yes. I find myself thinking about it. Probably more than I should. Do you?"  
"Every day."  
He was so earnest it scared her. "You do?"  
"Yeah." His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist.   
"John…don't do this unless you're sure." Fear seized her heart, and for a brief moment she was filled with a blinding panic, sure that this was going to end the way it always had with her and John-an empty bed and a broken heart.  
"Mon…I've never been more sure about anything in my life."   
He moved to kiss her, but she pulled away. "I just…John…"  
"What is it, Mon?" His face was filled with concern, and he reached up to touch her face. She shied away again, turning her face away from him so he couldn't see her eyes. "What? Please tell me, what is it?" He took his chin in her hands and turned her face so that he could see her eyes. "You can trust me, Monica."  
Her chin trembled. "I know that…the first time, it was an accident. I never expected you to stay, or to call or to keep in touch. But deep inside of me I just kept hoping, wishing that maybe someday, you could care about me enough to stay the night. And then you came to New Orleans, and I thought maybe this is it, maybe you've decided that you could be with me despite everything…but I woke up to find a note instead. I cried, John, I cried so hard…I kind of gave up that morning, gave up the idea of you ever loving me."  
"I'm sorry, Monica," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."  
"And that's what made it even harder," she replied, tears streaming down her face. "I wanted to hate you, but I couldn't because you didn't mean to hurt me and I knew it. You're just so damn good, John Doggett…too damn good. I want to hate you for doing that to me but I can't because I love you too much." She laughed sadly. "But I don't want to be hurt again, John. I can't. Especially not by you. I love you, make no mistake, but you have to know that this is what you want. I won't settle for waking up alone. I don't want sex, John. I want you-all of you."  
Slowly and with a gentleness he had forgotten he possessed, he leaned forward and kissed her tears away, savoring their salty flavor. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Mon? Kick my ass a little?" She smiled. "I'm so sorry, Monica. I never, ever meant to hurt you. I was so fucked up, I couldn't see straight. You are the reason I got my act together-without you, I'd still be sittin' on Long Island, drinkin' and feelin' sorry for myself. You gave me the courage to go on." He kissed her eyelids, her nose. "It was always you that I came back to, Mon. Always." He undid the first three buttons of her blouse and kissed the spot above her heart. "It's always been about this-about your big, kind heart and how you can love a stupid, scared man like me." He put his head to her breast and wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, Monica."  
When she awoke the next morning in his arms, she felt a sense of joy and peace that she had never known before. Watching his slow, even breathing she wondered how she, Monica Reyes-the flaky one, the one who was always 'too weird' or 'too emotional' or just too open and honest, the one who men liked enough to sleep with but never enough to stay-had managed to get a man so strong and good and true as John Doggett. She felt tears pricking behind her eyes and she let them fall, content just to watch him sleep.  
His eyes opened slowly, and he looked at her confusedly. "Is everything okay?"  
"It's better than okay."   
"Then why the tears?"  
She laughed. "I'm just…happy."  
John sat up slightly to look at her. "You're cryin' 'cause your happy?"  
She nodded. "Yeah." He looked confused, and she laughed and threw her arms around him and kissed the dimple in his chin, crying all the while. "It's good, John. This is a good thing."  
"If you insist." He tucked a lock of her hair-which had fallen out of its braids- behind her ear and kissed her soundly. "God but you're beautiful."  
She laughed through her tears as she kissed him, and she knew: she had been in love before, but this time it was for real.  
  
  
  
Melbourne, Australia  
18 months later  
  
  
Dana Scully sat at her the kitchen table with her computer, reading the headlines from The Washington Post online, sipping her coffee. Her mother sat down across from her, a plastic grocery bag in hand.  
"Coffee?" Scully asked, looking up.   
"No, thank you honey." She set the bag on the table. "I uh, I wanted to give these to you yesterday, but I was so tired I forgot." She slid it across the table.  
Scully opened the parcel and smiled. "I didn't know they sent pictures with you."  
"Yes, Monica insisted."  
Scully flipped through the photos of John and Monica's wedding, not surprised to see that it had been very small. "Where was it again? Glen Echo?"  
"Yes. It was a lovely ceremony, such a shame you couldn't be there."  
"Monica looked lovely." She held up a photo of Monica in her cream colored linen dress, her dark hair with tiny roses braided into it, her feet bare. John stood next to her in sand colored trousers and a blue shirt, and Scully couldn't remember ever seeing him smile before.   
"They look happy."  
"They are."  
Scully pulled an envelope out of the bag. "Is this for us?"  
Maggie nodded.  
'Dear Mulder and Dana:  
We're so sorry you couldn't be here for the wedding-we thought of trying to set up some kind of internet video conference for you, but we didn't want to endanger your safety. The pictures will have to do.  
Gibson was asked to attend Oxford in the fall. We were pleased but not surprised-he'd been accepted at Harvard and Princeton, so why wouldn't Oxford want him as well? He's not sure yet if he wants to go, he says he doesn't want to go too far away for our sake, but I think he's afraid of bringing trouble to you and Mulder even though you're half a world away. John says it's his decision, but I think he should go-it's a fantastic opportunity for him, and I think it would be a good experience. I know Skinner is in London now, maybe we can go and visit him and see if he can't convince Gibson what a great opportunity it is. Not that I want Gibson so far away from us, but I would hate to think that our fear kept him from what he wanted.  
John was promoted to AD of domestic terrorism. He was the ASAC on the case that caught the guys who had planned to bomb the Capitol, and they promoted him. I'm teaching classes on the occult and religious cults at Quantico several days a week-it's not terribly glamorous, but it's fun to watch the cadets get their asses kicked and it gives me time to spend with Gibson. I've sent his prom picture with your mother-he's with Stacy, his girlfriend. She's a doll-smart and funny, wants to be a lawyer. He's been shy about bringing her around, but we just think she's great and want to see more of her. Gibson's turned out to be quite a handsome young man, and we're glad he's got Stacy to keep all those other less worthwhile girls away from him.   
I suppose I ought to tell you…I'm pregnant. We don't know what it is yet, but I have a feeling it's going to be a girl. I think John's hoping for a girl, but he says it doesn't matter to him just so long as it's healthy. If it's a girl, I'd like to name her Melissa after your sister, if that's okay with you. If it's a boy tell Mulder not to worry, 'Fox' isn't even an option-he'll either be an Andrew or a Thomas.  
I hope you're well. Stay safe and keep in touch. Ultreya.  
Love,  
Monica'  
  
Scully smiled. "She's pregnant."  
"She was. She was going into labor as I left DC. I called during my layover."  
"And?"  
"Melissa Jane Doggett was born at 9:02pm Eastern Time. Check your email-John may have sent a picture."  
Sure enough, Scully had an email from John waiting for her. Scully laughed at the short email he had sent along with the picture:  
'Melissa Jane, 7 lbs. 2 oz.-she's got Monica's nose and my eyes. 38 hours of labor and I need a nap-and I didn't even do anything. Mon sends her love. How do you feel about being godparents?'  
Scully smiled as she looked at the picture of Melissa Doggett. "She's beautiful."  
"Who's beautiful?" Mulder asked, fresh from his morning jog. He peered over Scully's shoulder. "Who's the kid?"  
"Fox Mulder meet your goddaughter, Melissa Jane Doggett."  
"Well I'll be damned." He grinned. "They didn't waste any time, did they?"  
"They asked us to be godparents. You up for that?"  
"Hell yeah." He kissed the top of Scully's head. "You email them back and say the 'Spooky' couple will be more than happy to be their child's godparents."  
There was the sound of little feet, and William's red head popped up over the side of the table. "Mommy, I'm hungry."  
"Just a second, Will. Mommy has to send an email."  
He crawled up into her lap. "Who the baby?"  
"You remember John and Monica? They called on Christmas?" William nodded. "Well, they just had a baby."  
"They come to visit soon?" William asked.   
"Maybe we'll go to visit them, champ," Mulder said, placing a hand on his son's head. "Would you like that?"  
William nodded.   
'John-  
Count us in for godparents-if you're sure you want fugitives watching your kid. Who knows, maybe we'll come visit. Give Monica our best. We'll call soon. D.  
She hit 'send' and picked William up. "Okay, kiddo, how about some pancakes?" 


End file.
